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2017-10-06 - Hellions and Damnation
She was waking. As if from a long sleep. The White Queen slowly exhales then on this morning as she wakes up in bed. But something is.. Wrong. Her quarters are far grander. Far more replesent. Overindulgent to be alomst a parody of grandeur. As awareness comes to the Queen, she is in her bed then in the classic Hellfire Club. Emma Frost arches a brow as she rises to her feet, taking stock of her surroundings. She'd left this life behind a long time ago when it cost the lives of a dozen children. She folds her arms and speaks aloud,"Whose game is this, now?" There are no signs. No sounds of any children. There is the sound of knocking. A maid that was so fully mentally lobotomized as to only be her own work carrying a tray of breakfast. Emma Frost sets the tray down herself from the maid, then proceeds to the door. She isn't trusting anything just yet, but will follow the maid on out to get more idea of what's going on. The maid moves along. Her mannerisms are painful to watch. Because it's her own work. Her own damned destroying of a mind and leaving it a puppet. Back and forth through the halls go the guards of the club. Some enslaved. Some paid mercenaries. By the dozens. It's a normal day. Emma Frost squints as she goes along, hands on her hips as she explores the setting. She quirks her lips and inquires as to what the itenerary is for the day for an idea where to start with the event. Breakfast is served with shcnaps, her normal champagne, and an array of appetizers. The maid does not speak as Emma is given food. As the blond enibbles or drinks at it, everything is too real. Far to omuch to just be an illusion or triggered memories. Everything is far too exact. Emma Frost considers, and yet her last conscious memory was cozying in bed with Jean. It is indeed a precise illusion, and she'll play along to figure out what the point is of the set up. Along the breakfast is a small nut. That she hates. That the maid shouldn't have put in. That triggers an instictive rise in her to throttle the woman and choke her out. That feels all too real in her - that built up rage and loathing that is all too much her own. Emma Frost glowers at the maid, choking back the anger to simply flick the nut into her face with the chastisement,"This does not belong. Don't do it again." Emma nurses the schnapps and purses her lips. She really didn't have it in her anymore to arbitrarily torment, though bullying is still within. She squints in thought and consideration, and proceeds once again to see what's on the agenda. The torment rises up in her gullet. The emotion is there. Rising up in her to what now might almost feel like bile. But to who she was then feels ever so automatic. To lash out. Her body is just as she remembers. Everythins if ar too exact. has she been sent back in time? is she in possession of herself? It's disorienting as she makes her way through the halls. Even as she resists the impulse to lash out, there's no maneuvering in the maid that the response might be instinctive in them or drilled into. She could put a bullet into the woman and she wouldn't react other than to beg and apologize. All her perfect work. Emma Frost keeps that part of her old self at bay through will, comfortably certain in who she is now as she works through the nature of her situation. She is mildly repulsed by her handiwork, having given no thought to it in literal years. Emma finishes her drink and sends her along. It's in her face. Everything. That must be it. SHe's in her body again. It's as seh goes along that she sees Sebastian's secretary, the ever obedient Tessa come forwards, her head bowed down. "Ms. Frost, Mister Shaw hopes that you are ready for this evening's ball." The.. Ball? Emma Frost furrows her brow as she regards Tessa. She knows a bit more about her now than she did, so sees her in somewhat of a different light. She'll give it a moment for consideration before replying,"Of course." Tessa nods her head, "Sebastian has arranged transport for you to bring your students." Icy ball in gut. Hardening to steel. Students. Ball. Presentation. Emma Frost grits her teeth and reaches for her cigarettes. She'll light it up in her holder, exhaling a gout before before replying,"Of course. When will it arrive?" Emma is mostly curious so she can make arrangements. If this is a dream, then she can possibly affect the outcome. Tessa offers, "The car will be driving up to take you in.." Her tone goes it's normal expressionless. "Twelve minutes, seventeen seconds. Presuming you take your normal time to attemp tto verbally barb me you will arrive there in fourteen minutes, thirty five seconds." Definitely Tessa. Emma Frost hmms to herself, eyeing Tessa for a long moment before replying,"Efficient as ever. Thank you." Emma will round to go about her business. She needs to figure out what, if anything, can be done. There's hte limousine down ahead. Her driver their normal usual, efficient self. He offers to her, "Ma'am. Empath manipulated Bevatron into assaulting Roulette. The pair were separated by Tarot." A dust-up the likes of which would have happened a dozen times at the Massachusetts Academy and that she encouraged. Emma Frost knits her brow, pinching the bridge of her nose as she knows she encouraged such things. She will reply,"I'll deal with this after the ball. Than you for the report." The driver takes ehr through the streets, "Yes Ma'am. You'll want to make sure they're properly cleaned up." The man doesn't add 'and on thier best behavior', knowing that Emma will ensure that. Emma Frost hmms a bit, considering how she'll respond to this situation this time. No more divisiveness, certainly. She'll smoke in quiet as they ride out. She smokes, she indulges in another brandy or shcanpps,a nd she just enjoys the quiet of a car and a well trained enough driver to speak when spoken to. If Emma is more focused she might be inwardly scared at how easily old habits return. Emma Frost is indeed nervous about that, and it's because of that that she's on guard against overindulgence. She'll generally be quiet as she has enough to think about to be preoccupied. They arrive up at the gate of the Massachusetts Academy. A few of the Hellfire Guards go stiff over at attention. There are some things in the distance on fire from the melee. Catseye is perched on the top of the gate in her feline form and is basking in a sunbeam. Emma Frost stubs out the remnants of her cigarette, gripping the holder like a riding crop as she makes her way in. She'll telepathically call up to Catseye to come down, and proceed to summon the student body. Hands on her hips, she frowns and peers down at the ground in consideration as she waits for the response. From somewhere in her there's a bit of annoyed irritation. And perhpas pride then. Because she's made them this way. And they're delisciously deviant little weapons meant to be her own little army. But also of hope. She knows better. She can help them. S he can/stop what will happen to them. She can give herself redemption and make up for waht she did to them. she can save them. And in saving them she can save herself. Turning her worst moment into a beacon. She can make amends for who she was and what seh did as the students come to the front. As the students fall in, Emma will eye them one by one. She'll walk up and down, surveying the aftermath of the scuffle in its telltale bruises and abrasions with a dismissive eye as she considers what to say. Finally, Emma will start,"We have an event tonight. I'll need you all to get cleaned and presentable, which means no more fighting and bickering. You know what happens when you embarrass yourselves." Emma will pause and let that sink in for a moment. Empth is the first to speak, "As if I need reminding of that. It's the others." A quic empathic shove by him is enough to almost have some of the other students brawling amongst themselves - whether at her 'restrictions' on them, that it's not their fault, or whether it's someone else hmiliating them. All it takes is a light twist of Empath's near sociopathy to have them almost at one another'st hroats even in the midst of Emma's command Emma Frost will narrow her gaze at Empath, and in a moment of the overindulgence she had been preoccupied with in her thoughts goes in to switch off those abilities. She peers evenly at him with her hands on her hips, tapping the cigarette holder. Emma lets him whither in the reminder that he is at her mercy for a few more moments, then proceeds to continue,"No more fighting and bickering at this school. Today, it's over. We are turning over a new leaf, and it will be to lead by example. Starting today, we no longer simply declare ourselves better. We prove it." His cry of agony is almost music to her ears. Putting him in his place and humiliating him in the same way that he did the others. It's the cumuppance he deserves. There is a brutal sort of barely held in perhaps indulgence in her form as Bevatron goes to grab him by the neck ready to choke the life from him. These aren't students they are animals. They are pawns that need to be made useful. Oh Gods. She made them this way. Even looking back on it with regret, she never had to face how she made them. How she manipualted them to such a fine edge by setting them against one naother. Oh Gods, was she this person? Is she still this person? This bemusement at manipulation, this toying of others and twisting them with small knives is so familiar. That is what in her gut perhaps makes this all real. Not an illusion, not a fantasy, not a game. These emotions all too real. Emma Frost turns her attention now at Bev. She puts that one in place by tweaking the fear receptors the moment hands go around Empath's throat. She would make them stop. She states,"I said.../No more fighting!/ We are better than this." Emma accepts her blame, her direct hand in making them this way. She would just have to see about setting them aright. She wonders how this would be done, as they are indeed animals as they are. They are what she made them. If she can make them into animals, she can make them into people too. She can save them, she can make it right. She can yank them kicking and screaming. She can /make/ them. She can make.. Oh god. Her gut falls through again then perhpas as she realizes she's doing the same exact thing, using the same exact justification, the same exact methods, the same.. She is her father's daughter. Even in trying to fix things sh is still the same twisted bitch. Emma Frost will stand quietly, mulling on this fact. She exhales softly, eyeing them all as she says,"Look at the person next to you. Go ahead. Why can we not cooperate? Why shouldn't we live clean?" Emma grinds her teeth, thinking through the situation. She is who she is, but she knows why she was wrong. Maybe she shouldn't be in charge of anything. She has to try though. Is this failure? Is this rage? Is this having to deal with animals? Did she maek them animals or was it always there? Did she debase them or did she encourage them and bring out what they were? Were they so horrible before ora fter she got ahold of them? She still forges through it. She has to save them. She has to at least -try-. I fonly to prove herself better than what she was and put them through. To do it right to salvage thier souls.. She is gritting her teeth and figuring things out when Bevatron's head explodes. Emma Frost widens her gaze at the sudden fatality, and throws her hand in the direction it seemed to her to come from. "Hellions, we're under attack!" Emma's glad she got them reigned in in time for this at least. Maybe unified a bit, they can put up a better fight. She reaches out with her thoughts to see who it is attacking her school. Does it really matter? All ther eis is rage and suffering and chaos. In her tryin gto link with the entire team to coordinate them there is just confusion, rage.. The mental buttons that Empath had inflicted on them earlier that she had just popped like a bubble a few moments before now erupt over as the team comes under fire from seemingly nowhere. All they can feel is one another being mutilated and dying. It is rage. It is anguish. It is a crescendo of suffering and a cavalcade of failure. Emma Frost did not yet have her diamond body in those days, so is minimalized in her options to save her students. She'll stop the breathing of any attacker she sees, switching off their reflex instinct to force them to concentrate on the action or else suffocate before disconnecting their eye sight. Near trivial actions against hired guns for a telepath of her caliber. Emma stares at the bodies of her students, then calls out,"Fall back, into the school! Take cover!" Everything feels slow. So slow. She feels sluggish. is she caught off guard? Is the mindset of the students overwhelming her? Everything feels sluggish. Too slow. Each action only seeming to make another student trip up and over to their death. The psychic backlash is overwhelming - for herself and each student that dies in it as she pushes herself to try and shut down whomever is attacking them. And then the last of them are down. She is splattered in blood, guts, and brains. She is left howling in apin and anguish and failure and cradling the dead body of Catseye against her. And then everything goes blank in raw trauma, that which a the point in her life left her in a coma. Everything brutally fresh once more. Emma Frost awakens with a gasping start, her hand slapping over the side of the bed. She's gradually figuring out that she isn't asleep or in some other time or whatever it is that happened, but it certainly isn't an immediate realization.